A creeping phenomenon

As harvest season rolls along, we will soon get a more complete picture of how agriculture in the Atlantic provinces has been affected by dry conditions this year. In mid-summer, most parts of New Brunswick and P.E.I. were experiencing drought, and in some areas the situation was deemed severe.

Farmers who are feeling the direct effects do not need to be told when rain is needed, but it’s useful to get a macro view from the Canadian Drought Monitor (CDM), a federal project that compiles data and generates monthly maps. The CDM is affiliated with the North American Drought Monitor, a cooperative effort that brings together experts in Canada, Mexico, and the U.S., sharing a standardized methodology and rating system, which allows for meaningful comparisons.

“Drought is a ‘creeping phenomenon’ – difficult to define and measure, slow to develop, continuous, cumulative, and long lasting,” reads an explainer on the CDM web page. “There is no universally applicable tool for measuring drought, as impacts are non-structural, spread over large areas, and best described by multiple indices. To address the challenges of monitoring drought in a comprehensive way, the CDM is developed from an assortment of sources, such as: various precipitation and temperature indicators, Normalized Difference Vegetation Index satellite imagery, streamflow values, Palmer Drought Index, Standardized Precipitation Index, as well as drought indicators used by the agriculture, forestry, and water management sectors.”

As this issue of Rural Delivery goes to print, we are getting some welcome late-summer precipitation, but it will not entirely compensate for the effects of dry conditions earlier in the growing season. Some crops will be diminished; some herds will be reduced due to forage shortages; and some producers will have incurred considerable costs for irrigation – which was not a common practice in this region, historically.

We can expect to see more people digging farm ponds. Who wouldn’t want one? But there is the question of appropriate siting and design. (In the Sept. 2016 issue of RD, Rupert Jannasch explored this topic in some detail. His highly informative article titled “Pondering a pond?” can be found on the Rural Delivery Facebook page.) I recently peeked into a small, long-disused pond at a neighbour’s place, and it did not resemble a body of water so much as a pit with a muddy puddle at the bottom. Not much help during a dry spell. In the low-lying woods at the back of our place, there’s a nice brook that sometimes runs strong enough, in spring, to be a danger to children – but by mid-August it was entirely dry. Not a trickle.

In our modest garden, some things look pretty grim, though the garlic, which got an early start, came out very well. I am cautiously optimistic about late-bearing raspberries. The broccoli is perishing, but we’re getting decent tomatoes, and some nice cayenne peppers, perhaps because they are adapted to hot climates. (Anticipating spicy meals, I was reading about Wilbur Scoville, the American pharmacist who, in 1912, developed a standardized pungency test – allowing for meaningful comparisons of peppers. He assembled panels of expert tasters, and gave them diluted solutions of pepper extracts. Scoville Heat Units (SHU) represent the highest degree of dilution at which the zing can be detected. This subjective test has now largely been replaced by chemical analysis to quantify capsaicinoids – compounds that produce the irritant effect we experience as a pleasant gastronomic burn – but SHUs are still used. Cayennes generally range from 30,000 to 50,000, whereas jalapeños are only 3,500 to 8,000, and habaneros are in another realm, at 100,000 to 350,000 SHUs – which is almost weapons-grade, though others are far hotter.)

NOT DUST
During periods of dry weather, every car or truck that comes down our gravel road produces a tremendous cloud of dust that can be seen far in the distance. When the vehicle finally rumbles past our house, that cloud of dust drifts across the yard like a fog. No big deal, really, except when there’s laundry on the line. (Sometimes the road crews spray a solution of calcium chloride – which suppresses dust by attracting atmospheric moisture and resisting evaporation – but it doesn’t last long.)

Earlier in the summer, in the midst of a heat wave, I was sluggishly engaged in some outdoor activity while our neighbour was making hay across the road. At one point I looked up when he made another pass, and thought to myself that there must be some big ant hills in the field, given the amount of dust he was kicking up. Then I looked again, and realized it was not dust. The baler was on fire, and as it bumped along it was trailing tufts of burning hay, igniting the field in its wake.

A spark from the stack of that old Massey may have landed in the baler, or there may have been a mechanical issue that caused excessive friction. Whatever the case, inside the machine there were a great many nooks and crannies containing greasy hay that was eager to combust.

As I learned later, our neighbour had realized what was happening, and he was trying to pull the smoking baler up close to the pond in the middle of the field – which is, fortunately, a large and deep pond, and seemingly spring-fed, since the water level was only a couple feet below grade. We got a bucket brigade going, and doused both the baler and the leading edge of the grass fire. Eventually we pulled the smouldering bale out of the baler, so we could dump water on some hard-to-reach places. One gathering wheel was burned up, and one belt, but the damage was fixable. It wasn’t an intense blaze, but it spread remarkably quickly in that short stubble – and for a time there was enough smoke in the field that a person could have become completely disoriented. We prevented the windrows from catching, and eventually got the fire under control, but we were still relieved when the fire department arrived with a pumper to wet the area down thoroughly. To state the obvious, fire is scary stuff, and arid conditions make it scarier.

Here’s another self-evident fact that bears repeating: volunteer fire departments are pretty awesome. From what I have seen, their professionalism is impressive, and the presence of more women on the crews is a sign of real progress. These institutions are fundamental to rural life – and not just because of their role as first responders. As climate change brings more extreme weather events, sometimes threatening the safety and comfort of our homes, we will turn to our small-but-mighty fire stations to provide shelter and necessary amenities.

In drought conditions, some fire departments deliver water to households whose wells have gone dry. In southwestern Nova Scotia, where many people rely on shallow wells, this became a common occurrence in 2016, which was a record-breaking dry year. Since then, the province has implemented a new monitoring program, with electronic sensors deployed in wells in several communities, providing real-time data on water levels.

John Drage, a hydrogeologist with the Department of Energy and Mines, recently told the CBC he is looking to install the devices in more wells – to better assess the condition of certain aquifers, and to plan for assistance in communities that are likely to experience water shortages. Barret Kurylyk, an assistant engineering professor at Dalhousie University’s Centre for Water Resources Studies, has expressed interest in using the same technology to aid his research on Sable Island, where the diminishing supply of fresh water could threaten native wildlife as well as the island’s iconic horses.

“We’ve been a bit arrogant in terms of our thinking about groundwater in the Maritimes, because we just think it will always be there,” Kurylyk remarked. “We need to start thinking more proactively about groundwater management.”

Yep, we should expect to hear a lot more about water. It’s an important local issue, and globally it represents the 21st century’s greatest challenge to civilization. We have barely begun to recognize the significance of this. DL